Lance Charging in Arknights, but Without a Mount

Only four shattered throwing spears remained in his hand. They were masterpieces of Imperial alchemy—the wind-element crystals installed in their tails, the four iron fins keeping them stable in flight, and the spearheads forged from the toughest Olite Steel, capable of easily piercing armor. Then the fire-element crystals in the forward section of the shafts would explode inside the target.

To use them, one only needed to give the throwing spear an initial burst of speed, activating its wind-element propulsion and sending it flying on a powerful stream of air. Of course, for safety reasons, that initial speed had to be extremely high. Only aerial knights, all third-rank Transcendents, could use such weapons freely. They could shoot down enemies in the air or bombard armies on the ground, always reminding him of the missiles carried by fighter jets in his previous life.

Only four chances. Xu Lin told himself. Elite aerial knights could accurately strike humanoid targets while riding fast-flying mounts. He still had a chance to kill his way out—as long as he dealt with their commander.

Dark clouds covered the sky. With a clap of thunder, the Blood Eagles panicked and tried to flee this dangerous place. Only after the elves soothed them did they settle down.

Suddenly! The elven commander discovered that the enemy trapped within the encirclement had vanished. He hurriedly ordered the guards around him to protect him while everyone else immediately spread out to search.

But there was no trace of that human anywhere. The commander secretly remained on guard.

"Roar!!!!!"

A savage roar rang out. Above!!

The commander abruptly looked up. A massive figure dived down from the dark clouds, filling him with terror. A throwing spear blew three guards apart, and the final shot killed his Blood Eagle. He fell from the sky, only to be snatched up by a griffin and crushed into pulp in its claws.

The griffin flew away, but not a single elf dared pursue it. Xu Lin understood clearly: elves were a race with an extremely strict hierarchy. Only after personally witnessing their commander's death would they dare abandon the pursuit. Otherwise, they would resolutely carry out the last command their commander had given before being captured, and he would never be able to escape.

"Ring, ring, ring...!!"

Xu Lin jolted awake, turned off the alarm on his personal terminal, and let out a long breath.

"Such a realistic dream..."

Margaret Nearl was the eldest daughter of the Nearl Family, the eldest daughter of a knightly house that had once possessed lofty prestige. The reason it was said to have once possessed such prestige was that the Nearl Family had now fallen into decline. No outstanding knight had appeared in the family for a long time, and if things continued as they were, their title as a knightly family would be revoked. Her apparent goal seemed to be winning the championship and resolving the family's crisis, but only a handful of people knew her true purpose.

Her family did not fully support her decision to participate in knight competitions. Her uncle was fiercely opposed to it, let alone her true purpose, which was so shocking that it would inevitably invite a raging storm.

Yet she had still come here, having made up her mind.

"Good morning, citizens of the Great Knight Territory! What a wonderful day! The preliminaries for our Knight Competition Championship have already entered their second round! Only 104 contestants remain, and only 52 will advance to the main tournament. Lose a single match, and all your previous efforts will vanish into smoke! What cruel rules! Make sure to put your money on contestants with real strength, everyone, or be careful not to lose your shirts!"

"The first contestant to enter is—the Night Knight, Claude Aite, who delivered an astonishing performance yesterday!"

"His opponent is the battle-hardened 'Bloodthirsty' Makdol!"

"OHHHHHHH...!"

The contestants entered the arena!!

Xu Lin put on his simply repaired helmet and carefully checked his equipment once more before stepping out through the barred gate. His opponent had already been waiting for quite some time.

His opponent's armor was of excellent quality and offered comprehensive protection, but the breastplate and arm guards were plastered with trademarks, making him look like a human billboard. It looked rather strange in Xu Lin's eyes.

He drew his sword, angled the blade against the middle of his opponent's sword, and readied himself. His opponent cautiously approached, one hand gripping a shield and the other tightly clutching a battleaxe, assuming an airtight defensive stance.

The two gradually closed in. Xu Lin did not act rashly. Shields were extremely troublesome things; a careless move would expose an opening. But his opponent clearly lacked patience and could not resist launching a probing attack.

In an instant, Xu Lin's sword moved. The snow-bright blade coiled around Makdol's wrist like a spirit serpent and sliced open a wound. The searing pain made him drop his battleaxe. Xu Lin stepped forward and slammed the sword hilt into his face. Makdol instinctively retreated, and a clear, cold flash of sword light stabbed forward like lightning, stopping steadily at his throat—precise and efficient.

In the blink of an eye, the victor had been decided.

Amid thunderous cheers, Xu Lin left the arena, unaware that his performance had drawn considerable attention.

Margaret watched the black-armored knight leave. His exquisite swordsmanship had caught her attention. If nothing unexpected happened, he would become a formidable opponent for her. She could not help feeling a little pleased. It seemed there were still many powerful knights who had not yielded to the corporations.

A New Beginning: Lord of the Legion

Xu Lin often thought of his previous world. Those seventy-six years in that world had shaped who he was now.

It had been war! War that never ceased! The world had long sunk into the mire of war. Every race struggled within it, and no one could escape.

The races had long formed endless blood feuds that no method could resolve. Only when one side was reduced to ashes could there be a brief peace. Under the crushing pressure of survival, every race became a machine of war, and every life became fuel for war. No one knew when things had begun this way, but no one cared anymore.

The Human Empire he belonged to was the strongest of those war machines. The entire nation was specialized to an extreme for war. Everyone was divided into two groups: war and production. Under the leadership of the Emperor, who was always right, they campaigned north and south. Few people had ever seen the Emperor, yet he had never made a mistake. From three hundred years ago to the present, not one of the Emperor's decisions had ever been wrong. No one questioned the Emperor, and even if they did, they would not voice it. Xu Lin had once harbored doubts, but he quickly learned to remain silent.

He had never met the Emperor, not even when he was appointed Lord of the Legion.

He might not have been absolutely loyal to the Emperor, but he was absolutely loyal to humanity. Therefore, he would never raise any questions.

He had experienced countless bloody battles in his life, leading overwhelming hordes again and again and turning battlefields into hell.

As a sixth-rank classholder, he possessed immense strength, but even he could not fight the passage of time. His body gradually aged, yet he could not lay down his responsibilities.

As for war, he could not say he hated it, nor could he say he liked it. He was simply good at it. But over those long years, he could not help feeling weary.

He often wondered: how would this life end? Would he die at the hands of some enemy? Or would he grow old and die in bed? There had been nothing in his life but war. His parents had died in battle before him. He had never had a lover, never liked anyone. The only thing he was good at was taking lives.

But he had never expected fate to toy with him once more and grant him another new life.

A moment before the alarm sounded, a fair, slender hand turned it off. Xu Lin got up, put on the clothes at the foot of the bed, and finished washing up within five minutes. He tidied his room, donned his armor and equipment, and fastened his weapon belt.

Today was the day his armor and weapons would be completed. He needed to get there early and could not keep others waiting.

The workshop was far from his residence, but on foot, it took only a little over ten minutes with a Kuranta's legs. The place was not large and sat deep within a narrow alley, quiet and secluded. It was also an ideal place to set an ambush and kill someone.

Only after cautiously inspecting the area did he enter the workshop. It was not unbearably hot like a blacksmith's shop. Only a rather sci-fi-looking Originium furnace gave off heat. The rest was filled with various Originium-powered machines, making it feel more like a factory.

"Oh, lad, you're here."

Kowal propped up his muscular body and greeted Xu Lin.

"Good morning, Master Kowal."

"Just call me Kowal, lad. Forget the 'Master' stuff. Come, take a look at your things."

"Alright, Master Kowal."

Under Kowal's helpless gaze, Xu Lin walked toward his workbench.

A set of black armor rested on it: a fully protective front and back breastplate, helmet, shoulder guards, arm guards, skirt armor, leg guards, and iron boots.

"Oh, and this!"

A pair of iron gauntlets was set down, still covered in unwiped protective oil.

"Put it on and see."

It was troublesome for one person to put on a full set of heavy armor, so Kowal came to help. After quite a bit of effort, they finished putting on and adjusting the armor, then fitted the helmet over his head.

The armor felt exceptionally comfortable once worn, without the slightest awkwardness. Xu Lin was very satisfied.

Kowal was also extremely pleased, scratching his chin with a claw.

"Heh, this is the work I'm most satisfied with in the past ten years."

"Master, we're here!"

Two blonde Kuranta girls walked in from the alley. They were fashionably dressed, with pretty faces and graceful figures, like two golden clouds against the backdrop of the remote alley.

Only after entering did the two notice Xu Lin. The visor slit in his helmet was pointed directly at them.

"Master, do you have other guests?"

Kowal came to his senses and hurriedly introduced them. "Maria, Zofia, this is Claude. He met Maria the other day. Claude, this is Maria, the younger daughter of the Nearl Family, and her aunt, Miss Zofia."

"Claude White. You may both call me Claude." His voice was magnetic and heroic.

"Hello, Mr. Claude." "Nice to meet you, Mr. Claude."

They exchanged bows and spoke briefly. Then Zofia took her niece aside to wait.

"Now, take a look at this!"

Kowal brought out a three-meter-long spear. Its shaft was made of composite material wrapped around a steel core. Beneath the enormous two-foot spearhead were four reinforced blade-shaped iron plates that looked suited for blunt strikes.

"The spearhead is made of D32 Steel as you requested, but with this shape, the center of gravity will be somewhat forward."

"It's fine. I can handle it."

Claude looked at the spear in his hand—the standard weapon of aerial knights, a lance. Its center of gravity was forward in pursuit of ultimate instantaneous destruction. Aerial combat decided life and death in a single instant, so it did not need to be especially light.

And this was also the aerial knights' proud signature technique—Lance Charge.

The author typed unbelievably slowly.

A New Beginning: The Tournament Begins

The spear in his hand bore fine anti-slip grooves that could help its user improve control.

Claude held the spear level, then thrust forward with force. The spear let out a shriek as it tore through the air, piercing a fly beside the window. The spearhead did not tremble in the slightest, merely skewering the fly upon it. Not a single mark was left on the window.

The physical abilities of humans in this world far surpassed the commoners of his previous world. This Kuranta body was even stronger. Its stamina, explosive power, endurance, and strength were enough to rival a first-rank Transcendent. He could even catch up to a galloping horse over long distances. The spear spun and swept through the air, whipping up fierce gusts. Thrust, slash, lift, smash—every move was simple and direct, without a trace of unnecessary motion, yet filled with overwhelming force. It made hearts race and drew every eye.

Maria watched the black knight test his weapon in the courtyard and could not help being captivated. "Amazing! I can't see any openings at all."

Zofia also stared without blinking, her expression solemn. "He's very strong. Even I'm not confident I could face him as an opponent. Margaret has a powerful enemy this time. Though I do not wish for her to win the championship either."

"Why not? Winning the championship should be a good thing, shouldn't it? Although knight competitions no longer have any honor to speak of, it could still improve our family's situation and keep us from losing our noble status."

"You still do not understand, Maria. Today's knight competitions are no longer places where one can win the championship through strength alone. No champion can emerge without cooperating with a corporation. While the knights are still fighting, the champion's identity has already been decided. Margaret is challenging the order of this society. She will inevitably draw countless enemies and attacks. That is why I struggle with whether letting her participate was the right choice."

"Even Mr. Claude—if he does not cooperate with a corporation, then no matter how strong he is, he will not meet a good end."

After putting away his weapon, Claude used an engineering-plastic sheath to cover the spearhead and slung it over his back. The shaft was connected by D32 Steel joints and could be taken apart into two sections for easier carrying.

Kowal brought out another bag of throwing spears. "And these too. Lad, your design is excellent. Their performance is very good. The spearheads are also made from D32 Steel, though since they're consumables, only a little of it was used for the tips."

"Master Kowal, I will repay these expenses as soon as possible."

"It's fine, it's fine. Just remember to tell me how they feel when you use them."

Claude left in full gear. Kowal wiped grease from his hands and walked over to his apprentices with a smile. "What brought you two here to see this old man today?"

"We came to make Maria a better set of protective gear. She has reached the point where she can train with real swords."

"Perfect. I have a new idea I can try."

Maria watched Claude leave and asked hesitantly, "Master, just who is that gentleman?"

Kowal's expression suddenly turned grave. "I do not know either, but he may very well be a general."

Both of them revealed shocked expressions. "Why would a general be here?"

"Who knows? He has excellent manners, but that habit of giving orders cannot be concealed. And the aura that surfaces the moment he picks up a weapon—that is the aura of someone accustomed to killing. He is absolutely a dangerous figure."

Claude had been a sixth-rank Transcendent in his previous world. At his level, a casually thrown spear could shatter a mountain peak, and a swing of his sword could rip apart the earth. Such beings were known as "demigods."

The reason he had become so powerful, aside from talent, was aether. Aether was an element that existed everywhere in the world, the foundation of all other elements. Every element was transformed from aether.

The reason Transcendents were transcendent was that they tempered their muscles, bones, and even internal organs with aether, gaining comprehensive enhancement.

But in this world, Claude could not sense the existence of aether. Naturally, he could not strengthen himself as he had before. However, this world possessed its own power—a peculiar force known as Originium Arts.

Claude had discovered traces of "Originium" everywhere in this world long ago. This peculiar mineral contained tremendous energy, and its applications touched every aspect of society. The mineral was so extraordinary that people could even use it to power massive mobile cities built to escape catastrophes—terrifying natural disasters with destructive power and unpredictable forms. Yet after every catastrophe, large quantities of Originium ore would be left behind.

Originium Arts required Originium to be used, so people here inserted refined Originium structures into weapons and staves. Of course, there were exceptions—those who remained in prolonged contact with Originium could contract Oripathy. This was a special disease with no cure and extremely strong infectivity. Patients would be eroded and assimilated by Originium, suffering intense pain while becoming new sources of infection. Those with Oripathy were therefore severely discriminated against, but they could directly cast Arts through the Originium in their bodies.

Claude also possessed his own Originium Arts. Through the Originium mechanisms in his weapons, he could release lightning, coat his weapons with it, or fire it outward. It was highly effective against metal armor. But he did not know how to train his Originium Arts and could only perform basic physical training—for example, marching hundreds of miles in full heavy armor while carrying all his equipment and supplies.

An hour later, Claude arrived at the arena and calmly entered the waiting area.

The audience's cheers were deafening, while Claude was facing an uninvited guest.

"Mr. Claude Aite, our company's sincerity is absolutely unmatched. A powerful knight like you deserves the best treatment. As long as you sign this contract, you will receive the finest training conditions and the best living arrangements. You'll have a monthly salary of fifty thousand, along with commissions, bonuses, and other benefits. What do you think?"

Sitting across from him was a Kuranta man in a suit. Not a speck of dust marked his clothes, his hair was neatly combed, and he looked at Claude with an enthusiastic smile.

"And what would I need to give in return for such generous treatment?" Claude asked expressionlessly.

"Of course, of course. You would only need to provide some insignificant assistance." "For example?"

"For example, there may be times when we need you to make a small 'concession' to certain opponents during a match."

"Sorry, I cannot accept these terms."

The Kuranta man's smile froze. "Sir, do you understand what this means? This is a foolish decision. Without a corporation, you will get nothing."

"..."

Claude's sharp brows rose.

"Sir, I will call you 'sir' as well, in return for the courtesy you showed me. But if you continue insulting my honor, I guarantee that your head will end up in your arms. No one will be able to save you."

No anger appeared on the other man's face, but the man felt a terrifying majesty fill the room. That abyss-deep majesty gripped his heart and crushed his mind. Like a wild dog beneath a dragon's foot, he did not even dare breathe, praying that the powerful god had not noticed him. Cold sweat poured down from his forehead like rain.

Claude's index finger tapped against the table in a steady rhythm. Every tap struck the man's heart, booming like the toll of a great bell.